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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27838894">bad santa</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/davonysus/pseuds/davonysus'>davonysus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Background Femslash, Bars and Pubs, Christmas, Enemies to Lovers, Harry Potter Thinks Draco Malfoy is Up to Something, Harry Potter is Obsessed with Draco Malfoy, Harry/Draco Owlpost Fest 2020, M/M, Oblivious Harry Potter, Secret Santa, Shop Owner Harry Potter, like Really Oblivious Harry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:43:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,842</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27838894</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/davonysus/pseuds/davonysus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Malfoy suggests everyone participates in Secret Santa over the holidays, Harry knows he's up to something.</p><p>Can he figure out what Malfoy's plan is before the gifts are given?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Harry/Draco Owlpost 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkravenwrote/gifts">Darkravenwrote</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for darkravenwrote - thank you for the opportunity to create this, I hope you love it as much as I enjoyed bringing your wish list to life!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“This doesn’t seem suspicious to either of you?”</p><p class="p1">Ron and Hermione shared one of their looks, taking a moment of hesitation.</p><p class="p1">“Harry…It’s a harmless Christmas gift exchange.” Hermione frowned at him, an almost pitying look on her face. “I don’t see what about it has to be suspicious.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s Malfoy!” Harry snapped, irritated that his friends were ignoring his point of view. “You believe me, don’t you, Ron?”</p><p class="p1">“Er, mate… I’m kinda with Hermione on this one. I know you’ve never been the best of mates with Malfoy, and I’m still not the git’s hugest fan, but I reckon you should just drop it, yeah?”</p><p class="p1">Harry sighed. “Remember what happened last time you both ignored me about what Malfoy was up to?”</p><p class="p1">“You mean literally a few minutes ago? At the bar?”</p><p class="p1">“No! Before that!”</p><p class="p1">“At Luna’s last week?” Hermione asked. “Or at the Ministry the week before that?”</p><p class="p1">Groaning, Harry ran a hand through his hair. He wanted to scream at them both that they were being idiots, didn’t they know this was Malfoy? They couldn’t trust him!</p><p class="p1">“I reckon he means sixth year, ‘Mione.”</p><p class="p1">“I know that, Ronald. The point I’m making is that it’s been almost a decade. People change, and just because Harry clearly hasn’t changed much since school doesn’t mean that everyone else has been stuck in their ways.”</p><p class="p1">“I have changed!”</p><p class="p1">Hermione shot him a pointed look. “Oh yes, sorry, how could I forget. Malfoy is a new obsession that we have never once before heard about.”</p><p class="p1">“He is not an obsession! You’re being ridiculous, both of you. I’m going to prove—“</p><p class="p1">“That he’s up to something? Just get the map out while you’re at it, see how that goes for you.”</p><p class="p1">Ron snorted into his ale, setting off in a coughing fit and needing Hermione to slap his back a few times so he could breathe properly. Harry sighed, putting his head in his hands and leaning on the table with his elbows. He knew a lost cause when he saw one. He just hated that it was his friends taking Malfoy’s side.</p><p class="p1">While Hermione shot him a glance and changed the subject to their plans for the wedding, Harry nodded along and made noises where it seemed appropriate, relying on Ron to carry most of this conversation. Meanwhile, he vowed to keep a close eye on Malfoy. Starting with his stupid Secret Santa thing. Harry would have to find out who Malfoy had drawn from the hat and protect them from a potentially harmful gift, keeping them safe while also proving that Malfoy hadn’t changed at all since their schooling years.</p><p class="p1"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It had been a long day at the shop, keeping Harry on his toes right through until Peter had pulled him aside and told him that if Harry didn’t take a lunch break immediately, he would quit and leave him to deal with the holiday mayhem alone. Asmuch as Harry hated to leave the shop while there were customers queued out the door his rumbling stomach thanked Peter’s idiocy and he threw the man a grateful smile before quickly pulling off his golden work robes and stepping quickly out into Diagon Alley for a bite to eat. He almost walked headfirst into Ginny who was running down the street at such a pace that he thought she must be in danger as he swung his arms around her and paid the price as he was knocked to the ground, all air escaping his lungs and a groan in his throat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry, sorry—oh, it’s just you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gin, what the bloody hell was all that about? Are you okay?” Harry pushed at her shoulders, easing her up off his winded frame. “What were you running from?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh! I’m fine, I was just looking for you, actually. And I found you!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry shook his head, groaning as the back of it began to pound. Clearly even the snow hadn’t been enough to cushion his landing, and now he just had the beginning of an icy headache. “Why were you looking for me? You coulda just come into the shop, you know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, well. That’s where I was running to!” She stood up, pulling Hary to his feet with her and watching him sway for a minute. “You’ll be ‘right. Come, I’ll buy you lunch while we chat.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry grimaced, shaking his head. “It’s the bloody least you can do after that nonsense.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They walked to the Leaky, not wanting to bother going much further than that and feeling that a pub feed was definitely what this cold weather called for. When they were settled in and had food on the way, Harry cleared his throat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You said you were looking for me? When you came flying down the street a million miles an hour?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wasn’t flying,” Ginny pointed out over the top of her Butterbeer. “Though that’s what I wanted to discuss. Y’know the new range of D.I.Y.s you’ve got in?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hmm?” Harry said, wiping the foam off his upper lip. “Yeah, what about them?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was wondering if I could place a bulk order for the new kids program the Harpies have started up. I know the point is that kids can make their own brooms, parents can look at the safety features, all that. But Coach is trying something with kids and we want some specifications to make parents more agreeable while also giving the kids an advantage over their… Disposition to incoordination, I believe is how she phrased it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry snorted into his Butterbeer, bubbles tickling his nose hairs. “You want identical D.I.Y.s? Seems hardly the point.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know, I know. It insults your entire brand, doesn’t it? I told Coach you weren’t going to like it, but she’s got her mind set on it and I didn’t really have the heart to say no.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“S’alright, Gin. That’s easy enough. Might as well get Peter to ring it up for you, get him closer to that Christmas bonus he keeps swearing he doesn’t need.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why don’t you just pay him more? If you’re that determined to give him extra galleons, I mean.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry sighed, shaking his head. “He’s refused all of the pay rises I’ve tried to give him since he started four years ago. Seemed like the small business dream at first but now it just seems ridiculous. He practically runs the place. Swear he’d have me out of a job, if it wasn’t my shop.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ginny laughed, a melodic sound echoing through the humdrum of the pub lunch noises. “I’m pretty sure he knows what he’s in for with you, Harry. I doubt he needs the cash, if he keeps refusing it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve it!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No need to kick up a fuss. Sure, I’ll get him to do the orders for us.” She fiddled with one of the coasters on the table, not quite meeting Harry’s eyes. “You really don’t mind? It’s okay if you do. I know the kids’ range is really your heart and soul.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not just a kids’ range, Gin.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes fondly before clearing her throat. “I know, how could I ever forget? D.I.Y.s are for everyone, because nobody should be deprived the chance to fly.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry felt his cheeks flushing as he mumbled into his glass. “You don’t have to say it like that, you know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m only teasing, Harry. I think it’s admirable, I really do. Who knew you’d end up here, hey? Me, the Quidditch star,” she flipped her bob back over one ear, fluttering her lashes sarcastically. “And you, the Boy Who Lived, the Saviour of the Wizarding World turned shop owner and… inventor? What are you calling yourself these days, Oh Chosen One?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Busy,” Harry laughed, feeling the familiar warmth as Ginny laughed alongside him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Smiling at her as the food arrived and they settled into more mundane topics—her team updates and Harry’s shop adventures, mostly—Harry vowed not to let their friendship go so long without a catch up again. He had really missed this.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t until they were walking back to the shop that Harry was struck by a stroke of genius. Ginny had been flippantly speaking about the plans for Christmas, clearly over the moon about the fact that she would be home this year and singing praises about the holiday dinner Luna had organised for their friend group. Her and Luna would of course be spending Christmas together anyway, Christmas Eve with Luna’s family and then joining everyone at the Burrow for Christmas Day. It was just nice, she was saying, that they could also get all of the friends together for a Christmas event at their new house in the country.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry nodded along, smiling and interjecting where appropriate but the cogs in his mind were turning. He waited for Ginny to pause and catch her breath and hurriedly plastered a smile on his face, hoping she wouldn’t think too hard on the slight change in topic.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, Secret Santa, huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes! I’m so excited for it, I think it’s a great way to make sure even the newer friends feel included. That way everyone will have something after we’ve given any more personal presents during the family Christmas events, you know?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mmm,” Harry said. “Reckon you’ll have any trouble buying for yours?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh no, Hermione’s easy to—shit, wait, Harry! You can’t tell her I said that,” Ginny groaned into her gloved hands. “Luna is going to be so disappointed in me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I won’t tell a soul,” Harry promised, as he mimed zipping his lips shut. “Our secret.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ginny barged into him with her shoulder, almost sending him through the glass in the front of his neighbour’s shop. “Like you’ve ever been any good with secrets. Actually, you’re very good at not telling people things that are incredibly important,” she said with a pointed glare, the sting lessened by her grinning face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey! I take offence to that!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, really? Think of all the trouble you would have saved in school, if nothing else. Or perhaps with us? Ever thought that a simple, Hey, Gin, I think I’m gay? Might have saved us some trouble?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Feeling his cheeks flush, Harry folded his arms across his chest and frowned at her. “Got there in the end, didn’t we?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Only because Hermione and I staged an intervention! Honestly Harry, you’re bloody hopeless and you know it. At least I know my secret is safe with you,” she winked, shoving him through the front doors of The Golden Snitch. “I’ll be in to chat with Peter in a minute, so don’t you send him off for break just yet!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure thing, Gin. Thanks for lunch!” He called as he squeezed past the wall to wall customers, grinning at regulars and new faces alike. Slipping his golden robe on once more he shot a grateful smile at Peter and told him to wait ten minutes before heading out for a bite, then turned to face the onslaught of Christmas orders awaiting him.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">It was harmless, really, to start asking leading questions to Dean and Seamus over dinner the next week about who they’d each received as gifts. Nobody wanted to tell of course—such was the nature of “Secret” Santa, apparently—but after Harry had plied each of them with a few more rounds of ale they had started to loosen up. He had strongly considered point blank asking Malfoy who he had and what his game was, but the look on both Ron and Hermione’s face every time he’d mentioned the prat in the past week were enough to dissuade him from their bad graces at the very least. So it stood to reason that he could simply ask everyone else who they had, cross them off the list he kept in his pocket at all times and see who was left.</p>
<p class="p1">“Blimey, Harry, you must really like Christmas, eh?” Dean spluttered over the top of his glass. “Don’t reckon anyone’s asked so many questions about it since my mum.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Bet he can’t think of what to get his person,” said Seamus. “What’d you end up with anyway? It’s a Slytherin, ain’t it?”</p>
<p class="p1">Harry shook his head with a smile. “If you won’t tell me, it’s hardly fair…”</p>
<p class="p1">“Alright, alright.” Seamus raised his hands in mock surrender. “Show me yours, I’ll show you mine. Seems fair.”</p>
<p class="p1">“And Dean?”</p>
<p class="p1">Dean nodded, mouth full of potatoes spraying as he spoke the affirmative. “Yeah, ‘right mate.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I got Ron,” Harry admitted with a grin.</p>
<p class="p1">A chorus of jeers met him, more potatoes shooting in Harry’s direction as he shot up a subtle shield charm to catch the worst of them before they covered him.</p>
<p class="p1">“Hardly fair, ain’t it?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Must’ve rigged it, mate!”</p>
<p class="p1">Shrugging, Harry turned to Seamus. “Fair’s fair.”</p>
<p class="p1">Grumbling, Seamus rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I got Gin.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I got <em>Pansy</em>,” Dean moaned. “I mean, I know we see her most weeks and she’s not the absolute worst anymore. But what the Hell am I supposed to get her?”</p>
<p class="p1">His protest was met with silence as both Seamus and Harry winced, grateful they weren’t in his position.</p>
<p class="p1">“That’s rough, mate.” Seamus clapped Dean on the shoulder, grimacing. “Wouldn’t wanna be in your place.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah,” said Harry as he stood from the table. “Excuse me one sec. Gotta go to the bathroom. Another round on my way back?”</p>
<p class="p1">That seemed to cheer Dean up enough as both men cheered, drawing a toothy grin from Harry as he stepped down off the barstool. Flicking them a thumbs up he made his way through the crowded pub and squeezed past the cluster of stools at the end of the bar, finally stepping into the bathroom and able to draw the sheet of names from his pocket along with a whittled down pencil stub that he could barely get his fingers around.</p>
<p class="p1">Looking at the list of everyone involved in the Secret Santa swap, Harry smiled to himself as he scribbled through Ginny and Pansy’s names. That only left… Fifteen people, if he had counted correctly. Not impossible, he thought to himself. He would just have to be strategic so Malfoy didn’t catch on to his plan.</p>
<p class="p1">Whistling to himself, he headed back out to the bar and waved for another round of drinks, ale for the boys and a lager for him. While he waited he contemplated what Malfoy could possibly be doing, suggesting a gift swap like this. It seemed so… Harmless. Wholesome, even. Which was precisely why Harry knew something sinister was underway. Harmless and wholesome were words that you applied to kittens, not Draco sodding Malfoy. He vowed to get to the bottom of this, if it was the last thing he ever did.</p>
<p class="p1">“Alright,” Harry said as he sidled back into the booth they were sharing with the round of drinks. “What I reckon you’ve got to do, Dean, is get to know Pansy a bit. Tomorrow at the pub with all of us, try chatting to her more or something. Even just listen in to what she’s saying, right?”</p>
<p class="p1">Dean groaned into his hands. “Yeah, I reckon you’re right, mate. I just don’t want to do it, that’s all.”</p>
<p class="p1">Seamus laughed, taking a swig of his ale as he thumped Dean on the back. “You’ll be ‘right. Just you wait and see.”</p>
<p class="p1"> </p><hr/>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Harry!”</p>
<p class="p1">The familiar shout came from the front of the shop and Harry looked up from where he’d been unloading the latest delivery of polishing kits to see Seamus in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear.</p>
<p class="p1">“You ‘right?” Harry called back. “Come here, one sec.”</p>
<p class="p1">He carefully put the crate aside and cast a cushioning charm around it, wary of customers tripping over it while he had his back turned. Only took an accident to happen once before you knew better than to tempt fate ever again.</p>
<p class="p1">“We missed you at the pub last night,” Seamus said across the stack of boxes between them. “You getting on alright?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah, mate. Wish I could have made it.” Harry gestured to the cluttered space around him with an apologetic smile. “Christmas just seems to be a different breed of beast for the shop, you know?”</p>
<p class="p1">Seamus winced. “Yeah, can’t even imagine. Say, have you heard from Lee?”</p>
<p class="p1">“No, why? Everything alright with you two?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah, of course.” Seamus shrugged, fiddling with the quill he’d plucked off the top of the stacked boxes. “Just wasn’t sure if he’d popped in here lately. He mentioned wanting one of those new Scrambler kits…”</p>
<p class="p1">“…And you thought you’d try asking me if he’d already bought it for himself, so you could beat him to it if he hadn’t.” Harry grinned, shaking his head at his friend. “Unless he got it while I wasn’t in, you should be safe. Tell you what, I’ll check the purchase history now.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Cheers, Harry! You’re the best, you know that?”</p>
<p class="p1">Chuckling to himself, Harry made his way through the chaos towards the registers and gave a smile at Chelsea, one of the two Hogwarts-age casual staff he’d put on over Christmas hols. “Mind pulling up the purchase history for my friend here? Peter’s shown you how to do that, yeah?”</p>
<p class="p1">She nodded, digging around in the drawers below the counter. “What name am I looking for?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Lee Jordan.”</p>
<p class="p1">“You don’t mean…”</p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah, that Lee Jordan,” Harry said as he shared a look with Seamus. “Let me know if he’s bought anything here before this idiot doubles up on presents.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Sure thing, Mister Potter!”</p>
<p class="p1">Seamus stifled a laugh, turning it into a poor attempt at a cough. “Thanks, Miss Chelsea.”</p>
<p class="p1">“How is Lee, anyway?” Harry asked as he leaned on the countertop. “Still planning to be on the continent for the next few weeks?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah,” Seamus said with a grimace. “Shame he won’t make it back ’til the New Year but hey, work’s booming.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Guess that’s something, at any rate.”</p>
<p class="p1">“He mentioned in his last owl he might be seeing George and Angelina. Something about a family New Year’s getaway while the shop quietens down.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh yeah? They’re taking the kids across then?” Harry paused, thinking of the tiny toddlers he’d seen crawling around the Burrow a few weeks ago. “Be a bit of a pain travelling with those two, wouldn’t it?”</p>
<p class="p1">Seamus laughed. “Probably, but hey. Not my problem, mate.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Guess the holiday will do them good at any rate.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Mm. Oh, almost forgot to tell you! Dean’s chuffed about your suggestion. He got chatting with Pansy last night and let me just say, I don’t think there’s going to be any issues there.”</p>
<p class="p1">“He figured out what to get her then? That’s great,” Harry said with a grin. “Glad I could help.”</p>
<p class="p1">Seamus winked. “And then some. They’re grabbing dinner, for a start.”</p>
<p class="p1">“What kind of present is dinner?” Harry wondered aloud. “Seems a bit odd.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Blimey, Harry. Sometimes I worry about you, mate. They’re going on a date tonight, you idiot.”</p>
<p class="p1">Harry’s jaw dropped, along with the tin of polish he’d been holding. “Oh. I… did not see that coming.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah, well.” Seamus shrugged, clearly not that put out by it. “It was a bit of a surprise when he first asked, but I think Dean’s more shocked she said yes than anything. I believe her words were something about his ‘brogue charm’.”</p>
<p class="p1">Harry snickered, thinking perhaps he hadn’t been too far off the money when he said there was something seriously wrong with Pansy after all.</p>
<p class="p1">“Um, Mister Potter?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Yes, Chelsea?” Harry turned to see the young assistant looking between him and Seamus, an amused expression on her face.</p>
<p class="p1">“Lee Jordan isn’t on our records this quarter. Did you want me to go back further?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Thanks, Chelsea. That’ll be enough won’t it, Seamus?”</p>
<p class="p1">Seamus grinned, reaching across the counter to slap Harry on the shoulder. “Absolute legend, mate. Thanks, Miss Chelsea. Reckon you could grab me one of those Scrambler kits, then?”</p>
<p class="p1">“I’ll leave you in Chelsea’s capable hands,” Harry said as he tilted his head towards the mess he’d left up the back of the shop. “Best be getting back to it.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Great, thanks mate! See you next week, yeah?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Wouldn’t think of missing it,” Harry called over his shoulder as he manoeuvred between the stacked boxes, grinning from ear to ear.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It had been exactly one week since Harry had seen Seamus at the shop and Harry was starting to run out of ideas. Aside from Ron and Hermione, who he was seeing for dinner during the week, Harry had asked most of his friends who they were gifting presents to and yet only managed to cross half of the names off his list. All of the former Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had been relatively easy to get answers out of—except Luna of course, and Neville who was out of town until Christmas Eve—but the Slytherins were proving slightly more difficult. He’d tried, he really had, but he couldn’t shake the suspicion that Pansy saw through every word he had said at the pub the night prior… even with Dean distracting her for most of it. Knowing that it would be likely his best shot at plying the Slytherins for secrets he had chosen to sit further down the table than normal; his mistrust usually kept him as far away as possible for fear of being hexed—or worse, humiliated. Thankfully Dean was also switching seats to be near Pansy so Harry had used this as an excuse, saying he wanted to go with Dean for moral support and earning a few eye rolls from his closest friends.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So he’d spent the night seated uncomfortably between Dean and Blaise Zabini, who Harry didn’t have much of a problem with anymore. In truth he wasn’t sure he’d ever had much of a problem with Blaise outside of his house affiliation. What he did have a problem with was his proximity to Malfoy and the stares he kept catching the tail end of, increasing in frequency as the night went on and the drinks kept coming. It was rare that Malfoy hadn’t been staring at him last night. Harry would know: he spent almost the whole night with his eyes fixed to the blonde, keeping an eye out for any missteps or attempts at wrongdoing. He’d had to keep his voice down, which made it even harder to get people to subtly spill their secrets to him in the dim lighting and noisy atmosphere of the Lion’s Pride. So focussed he had been at keeping his gaze trained to the prat while also keeping his voice at a level he wouldn’t quite be able to hear, Harry had felt absolutely drained by the time he got home and promptly collapsed on to his sofa and passed out, fully clothed. That had made for quite the hangover this morning, made all the more spectacular when he took into account how bad his back felt every time he made the poor decision to crash on the couch.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Thankful that he’d scheduled the morning off work—they had one of the casuals in today to give Peter a hand with the Saturday morning crowds—Harry had spent most of it in a haze that consisted of hangover potions, complaining about Malfoy, takeout, grumbling about Malfoy, flicking through the Quibbler, fantasising about how great it would be to prove to everyone how evil Malfoy truly was, and two naps.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rolling out of bed just after noon, Harry got ready and made his way down to Diagon Alley. The day passed in a blur of last minute holiday panic and Celestina Warbeck’s Christmas carol album and before he knew it he had sent all the staff home and closed up shop for the night.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A knock at the door had Harry’s head shooting up from where he stood behind the counter, trying to count the last of the day’s takings. It was dark outside, the shops still open further down Diagon the only source of any light, but enough to illuminate the pale white hair of the man standing outside his shop. Sighing, Harry placed the last of the coins on the counter and scribbled down the numbers he had gotten up to with his counting—there was nothing worse than having to recount your galleons—and made his way to open the front door.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Malfoy.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Potter.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you here for? I’m closed for the night, as you can probably tell from the locked door and lights turned off.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Malfoy raised his hands in mock surrender, shooting a look to both sides of where he stood. “No need for the aggression, is there? I apologise if I’ve come at a bad time. I thought you may prefer to discuss this without customers around.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come to make sure I’m alone and there’s no witnesses?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sighing, Malfoy brushed a hand through his hair. “Look, Potter. I truly have come to talk. Pansy mentioned something you said yesterday and it’s been weighing on my mind a bit. Do you mind if I come inside, or would you rather stay out here all night and have us both freeze to death?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry snorted. “You’re not going to get past me so easily.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine, whatever. Have it your way.” Malfoy threw his hands up in the air as he sighed. “Why are you so stubbornly insistent upon hating me? I know we were pathetic little twats in school, but it’s been nearly a decade since that all happened. Surely you want to put it behind us?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“School? I think you’re forgetting something.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, and you’ll never let me forget it, will you? Honestly Potter. I did my time, I paid my dues. You even spoke for me in defence in front of the Wizengamot. What was that, empty words?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry sighed. “Just because it didn’t seem fair to slap you with the punishment of someone who had served longer doesn’t mean I’m okay with what you did. You can’t just waltz in here asking for forgiveness.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s the thing. I’m not asking for your forgiveness. And I bloody well hope you don’t think I’m okay with what I did. I recognise that I did what I had to do, as much as I hate what happened because of it. I’ve come to terms with my demons, and hope you can do the same. You don’t have to forgive anything. Just understand it, if you’re capable of that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, ‘right. I’ll think on it. Is that all you came to annoy me about?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, actually. And it is bloody freezing, I wasn’t joking. Do you mind?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry grunted, begrudgingly stepping aside so Malfoy could step through the doorway and closed the door behind them to let the shop’s warming charms do their best.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nice shop you’ve got here. Not what I expected from the Chosen One, I must say.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t bloody start with that. What were you just saying about putting it behind us?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Malfoy sighed. “Listen, Potter. You really ought to stop seeing the worst in me. I didn’t mean to jest when I said that, only that, well. Everyone was always saying you were going to be an Auror. Perhaps a teacher, maybe a quidditch player. This,” He gestured around to the room they were in. “Isn’t quite what I, or anyone else, had in mind.” At Harry’s glowering expression, Malfoy raised a hand to silence him for a second before continuing. “I like it. Don’t think I mean otherwise. It’s really nice, and I think you should be proud of what you’ve built here.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, flabbergasted. “Er… Thanks, Malfoy. Not what I expected.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Malfoy laughed. “Yes, well. I daresay we’re both a lot different than the other expects nowadays. I’d like to get to see more of that side of you, if you’d just give me the chance.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is that what this is about then? You’re trying to weasel your way into my good books?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sighing, Malfoy turned and found a display cabinet to lean on, looking far too comfortable for Harry’s liking. His black sweater and jeans ensemble had him looking like he’d just stepped off the pages of one of those magazines Hermione swore she didn’t read. The dragon hide boots, well, they were just an additional reminder of how much of a wanker Malfoy was, right?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This really isn’t going to work if you continue to be suspicious of my every motive. That’s actually what I’m here to discuss, as much as I do love you shooting down my advances.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your what?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Shaking his head, Malfoy muttered something too low under his breath for Harry to hear. Louder, he said, “I’ve come because Pansy said you were asking some rather pointed questions about Secret Santa. Dean told her not to worry about it, of course, because he’s all trusting and not one to read between the lines.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you calling Dean thick?” Harry said, outraged. “Bloody hell Malfoy, what’s your deal?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn’t say anything of the sort. I like Dean, I think he’s excellent for Pansy—someone has to keep her in check, and I’m glad to be rid of that responsibility—but as I said, he’s very trusting. Particularly when it comes to his fellow Gryffindors. Pansy on the other hand saw right through your casual facade and let me know when we met for lunch yesterday.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You saw Dean for lunch?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s it to you? Sad you weren’t invited?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No. I don’t care about being invited to your stupid lunches.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure acting weird for someone who doesn’t care. Yes, Pansy is one of my closest friends and I wanted to hear more about their new relationship. We went to Gilded, you know that new place down in East London?” Malfoy shot Harry a smirk, raising his brow casually. “I’d be more than happy to take you along some time. Dinner next week, perhaps?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry grumbled, flushing as he crossed his arms over the golden robes he was still wearing. “Shut up, Malfoy.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine, have it your way. In answer, no, Dean wasn’t there. You know he is far too busy. I just saw Pansy today. Anyway, that’s beside the point.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well then, get on with it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Malfoy rolled his eyes. “At the pub the other night, you were asking a lot of questions. Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring at me all night”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wasn’t—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You were. Have you been trying to sabotage Secret Santa?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry dropped his eyes to the floor, unable to meet Malfoy’s intense stare. “What, like you’re not?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, this whole thing is your stupid idea, isn’t it? Who’s to say you’re not planning something?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was silence for a few moments, drawing Harry to look up and see Malfoy’s hurt gaze.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You really think I’m the same boy who tormented you all those years ago, don’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course you are!” Harry snapped. “Just because everyone else seems to be taken by your stupid, I don’t know, reformed charm. I’m not buying it for a minute.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Malfoy pressed his thin lips together, exhaling sadly. “If only you could see it, Potter.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“See what?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I highly doubt it’ll be well received right now. Feelings aside, you really ought to stop being so suspicious of this gift exchange. I’m not sure how in Merlin’s name I’m supposed to convince you that this is innocent and no witches or wizards will be sacrificed in the name of Christmas, but do let me know if anything comes to mind.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With that, Malfoy turned to leave the store, not pausing until he reached the shop’s threshold. He turned back to Harry, silver white hair glowing ethereally in the low light.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I had really hoped you would give me another chance, Potter. It’s a shame that only one of us appears to have changed.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sod off, Malfoy.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Malfoy sighed, nodding dejectedly as he turned and walked down the street out of Harry’s sight. Harry waited until he could no longer hear the steps in the snow before charming the door shut and screaming in frustration, kicking over the nearest bucket of bristles and stubbing his toe in the process, causing him to shout in annoyance once more.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How dare Malfoy show up here, wanting to talk? Accusing Harry of ploys, when he was clearly the one in the wrong? All that talk of accepting his faults, of not even wanting forgiveness; it was obviously a ruse devised to throw Harry off the real scent. He realised that he had lost a vitally important opportunity to ask Malfoy who he had drawn from the hat, though he supposed the prick wouldn’t answer or more likely, would make up a lie. That was exactly like him, to lie about it to gain Harry’s trust. Little did he know that Harry had almost narrowed it all down to the final suspect, with only a few people left who it could be.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">On second thoughts… Malfoy did say to let Harry know if there was anything he could do to gain Harry’s trust, didn’t he? Perhaps Harry ought to ask him who it was and see how truthful his answer turned out. Grumbling as he hobbled back to the counter to resume his tally for the day, Harry decided tomorrow he would tell Ron and Hermione at dinner about how shady Malfoy was being so they could see through his tricks, once and for all.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The clinking of cutlery sounded through Ron and Hermione’s flat, the smell of mash and gravy filling Harry’s nostrils. Taking another sip of the wine Hermione kept pouring, he nodded along as she spoke about her annoying boss skipping out on important meetings again, waiting for a lull in the conversation.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“…And honestly, I’ll be glad to see the end of this year. It’s been a bloody nightmare, I tell you. Christmas cannot come soon enough!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mmm,” Harry said as he placed the glass down. “So who’d you two end up getting for Secret Santa then? Need a hand with gifts?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Frowning across the table, Hermione shook her head with disapproval. “Harry, you know we’re not supposed to tell you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ron snorted to her left. “She’s been like this the whole time. You won’t be getting a word out of her, mate.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What about you then?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ronald, I swear, if you tell him anything—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, ‘Mione. I know. It ruins the fun and the holiday spirit.” He took another mouthful of sausages, speaking through them as he looked at Harry. “I’ve heard it a million times now.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sighing, Hermione excused herself from the table to use the loo and silence fell for a moment.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Clearing his throat, Harry reclined in the wooden dining chair. “So, what’s with Hermione not saying anything?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ron laughed. “Oh, I think she really doesn’t want to ruin the spirit… And I also know who she has, because even though she hasn’t said it, it’s very obvious.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hmm?” Harry leaned forward, narrowly avoiding spilling what was left of his wine. He hadn’t put it that close to the edge of the table, surely? “Who is it then?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wiping the back of his sleeve across his mouth, Ron grinned. “Well, you can’t tell her, obviously, because she’ll have my head. But she clearly has me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry’s hopes dropped. “Why do you think that?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why else wouldn’t she tell me? I think she just wants it to be a surprise.” Throwing back what was left of his wine in one go, Ron frowned as he placed the glass back down. “Or maybe she’s worried she won’t get a great present and wants to pretend it’s from someone else.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ron, I’m not sure that’s—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re right, she’s great at presents. I think she just wants to be romantic and surprise me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry sighed, thinking this was probably the best he’d be able to get where Hermione was concerned. “Hmm… Okay. Who do you have then?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, I’ve got Cho. Hermione refuses to help me shop for her because she’s still mad I told her, because, y’know,” he winked at Harry, tilting his head towards the door Hermione had exited through. “So I’m just going to ask Luna. Maybe Gin actually, now that they fly together. Say, do you reckon I should just swing by your shop and grab something there?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, sure thing mate. That’ll make it easy.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ready to resume his attack on the mash, Harry smiled as he realised this didn’t leave many names on his list to be crossed off at all. The more he thought on it, the more he realised that Hermione definitely had him for Secret Santa. Ron was rubbish at keeping secrets, everyone knew that, so she was avoiding having it passed along by not saying anything. He was still grinning as Hermione stepped back into the room with a fresh bottle of wine and held out his glass for a top up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Feeling very smug about having figured it out for himself, Harry dug into the potatoes with renewed enthusiasm. Ron smiled at him across the table, oblivious as to what was going through Harry’s mind but seemingly glad his mate was enjoying dinner nonetheless. Hermione slid into her place across from him, looking between the two of them and smiling fondly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, Harry. The shop’s doing well, you’ve got some new staff…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He nodded as he quickly swallowed down a mouthful of potato. “Yeah, they’re great.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So I guess you’ve more free time these days?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean, it’s Christmas. Once the year’s out though, for sure. Things are always a bit quieter in Winter anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Excellent.” Folding her hands on the table in front of her, Hermione shot Ron a glance to which he responded with a thumbs up. “Then I think it’s about time you started dating again.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Spraying the wine he’d just sipped everywhere, Harry coughed. “Sorry, what?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, if you’ve finally got some time under your belt, why not?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry shook his head. “Why are you deciding this though? Shouldn’t my dating life be, I don’t know, my problem?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Historically speaking, you’re not very good at doing these things for yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you—I am not—huh?” He stammered, looking to Ron for confirmation. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Remember that intervention we staged for you?” Hermione laughed. “You truly were clueless, Harry.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s the second time someone’s brought that up this week,” Harry groaned, putting his hands over his face. “Must you all remind me?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well I was just getting worried we’d have to stage another. Seems like apparently you’ve forgotten the content of that one?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Forgotten—what, forgotten that I’m gay? Not bloody likely,” Harry said into his hands. “What’s that supposed to mean, anyway?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just that you haven’t really been dating anyone in a while, have you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, well, I’ve been a bit busy, in case you haven’t noticed!” Harry spluttered.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Busy obsessing over Malfoy? Don’t worry, everyone’s noticed.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sighing, Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m not obsessing.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You most certainly are,” Hermione said as she topped up her wine. “It’s eerily reminiscent of teenage Harry, actually. I wish I could say you’d become less moody and petulant, but you know what they say.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not moody!” Harry said, outraged. “And I’m not obsessed, I’m just busy, and what’s with the sudden interest in my love life already—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not sudden, we’re actually all quite sick of how blind you are to what’s going on. It’s doing my head in.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you mean?” Harry was suspicious now, wondering what he couldn’t see. “Is this about Malfoy?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ron looked up from where he’d been laughing into his plate. “Hey, ‘Mione! He guessed it!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course he did. He’s always thinking about Malfoy.” She sighed, sitting back in her chair and cradling her stomach. “I honestly don’t think I could fit another mouthful. Sorry hon, it was delicious.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“S’all good,” said Ron as he leaned over to give his wife a peck on the cheek.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Excuse me, we’re not done talking about this!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They shared a look, before turning back to Harry.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, and I don’t expect we ever will be. Go on then, what do you want to accuse Malfoy of doing now?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m just trying to figure out why you mentioned—oh! No, that’s rubbish.” Harry rubbed his eyes with the end of his sweater sleeves, feeling hazy as he realised how much wine he must have consumed. “He’d have to be bloody joking.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mate? You’re not making much sense.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You mentioned me dating… You… Malfoy,” Harry stumbled over his words, trying to grab at the thought that was just below the surface of his mind. “Malfoy knows I’m gay,” he said, squinting as he fixed his stare on Hermione. “Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, Harry. Well done.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ignoring the condescending tone and light amusement on her face, Harry pushed on. “So the bastard’s trying to use that against me! That’s what all that nonsense was last night.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Last night?” Ron sat up straighter in his chair, looking to Hermione first, then Harry. “Nobody mentioned last night before.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He came by the shop…Tried to talk shit about getting to know each other…Dinner…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry’s head was pounding as the realisations flooded through his brain, not helped by the alcohol. He couldn’t believe Malfoy’s nerve. Where did he get off, finding out a bloke was gay and then making passes at him to distract him from what was really going on?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That bastard!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What, Harry? I’m afraid you’ll have to explain a bit better. He asked you about dinner?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s trying to confuse me!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ron sighed. “You’re confusing me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, listen! He knows I’m onto him, right? So now he’s, what, flirting? Oh, Merlin.” Harry groaned, putting his head in his hands and ending up with an elbow in the mashed potato he hadn’t quite finished. “That prick.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A silence followed his words and he sat there, fuming, until Hermione’s laugh rang out. Quiet sniggers at first, quickly giving way to a full-blown belly laugh which Ron joined in on. Harry peeked up from beneath his hands and couldn’t take it any longer.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is so funny? You really don’t believe me, do you? You think I’m lying about him coming by and laying it on?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hermione could barely speak through her tears, the laughter shaking her entire body. “No… We believe that part, Harry. Trust me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then what’s so bloody funny?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“‘Mione,” Ron whined. “Can we just tell him already?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She snorted, rolling her eyes at him. “You know he won’t have a word of it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oi! I’m right here.” Harry sulked into his sleeves, resenting both of his friends for their actions. “Continue to talk around me, why don’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, Harry.” Hermione’s laughter had stopped with her fond, mothering tone taking its place. “I’m not entirely sure you want to know what’s happening quite yet.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I do if you’re all laughing at me!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ron gave him a shrug across the table. “Sorry, mate. It’s bloody hilarious, that’s all.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’ll tell you when you figure out Malfoy’s plan, how’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So you do agree he’s up to something!” Harry cheered, triumphant. “I knew it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Snickering, Ron and Hermione shared a loaded glance. “Yes, Harry. We’ll let you figure it out, how’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Filled with renewed purpose, Harry grinned at them both, trying not to feel too put out by the continuing laughter that followed them through the rest of dinner.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Harry’s eyes were so focussed on drinking Malfoy in across the bar that it took him by surprise when Ginny slid in to the seat next to him, nudging him in the ribs.</p><p class="p1">“Planning to ask him out any time soon?”</p><p class="p1">“No!”</p><p class="p1">“Okay, okay, no need to be so defensive. Only, I wouldn’t hate you if you did, you know.”</p><p class="p1">He turned to glare at her grinning face. “I don’t like him.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, Hermione told me that you spent the last minute talking about how much you simply <em>hate</em> his sexy legs in those tight jeans. Before that it was how much you <em>hate</em> the new way he’s wearing his hair and how much you just want to run your fingers through it. I believe earlier you mentioned that you <em>hate</em> his stupid, moody, pointy face makes you want to kiss him.”</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t say any of those things!”</p><p class="p1">Ginny laughed. “Maybe not in as many words. That’s how you sounded though.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re all hearing things wrong,” Harry grumbled. “Besides, it doesn’t matter, does it?”</p><p class="p1">“Why not?”</p><p class="p1">“Because the prat is just getting me riled up so I won’t notice what he’s up to.”</p><p class="p1">“You really think that?” Ginny snorted, smacking the back of Harry’s head and causing him to groan. “Are you sure you’re not just projecting your childhood animosity onto what is genuine flirting, Harry?”</p><p class="p1">Harry took a long sip of his lager, shooting daggers at Ginny from behind the glass.</p><p class="p1">“I’m just saying. You’ve never been one to notice these things, have you?”</p><p class="p1">He slammed the glass down with more force than was necessary. “What’s with everyone calling me stupid lately?”</p><p class="p1">Ginny reached out and patted his forearm gently. “I’m not saying you’re stupid. You’re quite clever when you actually pay attention to the right things. Just… Give him a chance, maybe. He’s not as bad as he used to be.”</p><p class="p1">“Stop defending him! All of you, I’m sick of it. Somethings going to happen at Christmas, just you wait and see.”</p><p class="p1">Ginny rolled her eyes, leaning back into her seat. “You’re such a stubborn idiot. Sure, Harry. Whatever you say.”</p><p class="p1">Pouting into his lager, Harry was grateful when Ginny took the hint and changed the topic, only half listening as she went on to excitedly tell him about how happy Coach was with the new broom order. He knew he ought to be paying closer attention—it was his products she was chattering away about, after all—but he couldn’t drag his thoughts away from the blonde across the bar.</p><p class="p1">Was it possible that—no. Hell would freeze over sooner than Malfoy having genuine interest in him…and it wasn’t like he cared, was it? Sure, the git was nice to look at… Perhaps not that bad to talk to, if everyone else was to be believed. Got under Harry’s skin like nothing else, though whether that was a good thing or not Harry couldn’t be sure. He groaned, head falling into his hands as he leaned on the dark table.</p><p class="p1">“Harry?”</p><p class="p1">“Why him?” He moaned into his hands. “Of all the sodding blokes, why him.”</p><p class="p1">There was silence for a moment, and he peeked up from underneath the mop of hair that had fallen into his eyes. Ginny was stifling a laugh, and he rolled his eyes before sitting up and glaring at her.</p><p class="p1">“It’s not funny, Gin!”</p><p class="p1">She snorted, which quickly gave way to a full bellied roaring chuckle as she was unable to hold it in any longer. “About bloody time,” she managed between laughs, shaking roughly.</p><p class="p1">“Shut up!” Harry stage whispered as he glanced around them, seeing people starting to turn their way. “This is serious.”</p><p class="p1">Ginny was hiccuping between laughs now, tears forming in her eyes. “Sorry, Harry. I just—“</p><p class="p1">A loud hiccup ripped from Ginny’s throat and she sighed, grabbing Harry’s drink from in front of him and downing it in one go. Wiping a hand across the back of her mouth she waited a moment—ignoring Harry’s indignant protests at having his drink stolen—and then grinned.</p><p class="p1">“That did the trick! Alright, I’m heading off with Luna now. If you need to have a Malfoy crisis, I’ll be home tomorrow. Actually, you'll see me for Christmas in a few days, you can wait. Don’t floo tonight please, you’re unbearable when you floo me drunk.”</p><p class="p1">She gave him a peck on the cheek before leaving him sitting at the table on his own, feeling more confused than ever. Harry took that as his cue and with one last lingering glance at Malfoy—which he promptly pretended never happened—he slid off the barstool, grabbed his jacket from where it had fallen to the floor and pulled it on as he made his way to the exit, along with the gloves and beanie he’d left tucked into the pockets.</p><p class="p1">Stepping out into the crisp night air, Harry squinted as his eyes tried to adjust to the outside world. The cloud cover coupled with one too many drinks had Harry feeling a bit hazy as he stumbled and he blamed the lack of vision for how high he jumped when a voice spoke out of the darkness to his right.</p><p class="p1">“Well, Potter. You’ve got some nerve.”</p><p class="p1">Blinking rapidly as he gathered his bearings and watched Pansy step out from where she’d evidently been leaning against the brick wall, Harry raised an awkward hand. “Er, Pansy, hi.”</p><p class="p1">“What in Merlin’s name are you playing at, Potter?</p><p class="p1">“I’m not really sure what you’re talking about,” Harry admitted with a grimace. “Can we talk about this some other time? I don’t feel so good.”</p><p class="p1">Pansy barked a short, vicious laugh. “You’re about to feel a whole lot worse. What did you say to Draco last night?”</p><p class="p1">“Er…When he came by the shop, you mean?”</p><p class="p1">“He came by… Oh, that daft bugger.” She sighed, raising her hands in frustration. “Why are you both so impossibly hopeless?”</p><p class="p1">“What do you mean?”</p><p class="p1">She snarled, coming closer to Harry and shaking her head. “What I mean, Potter, is that the two of you have been dancing around each other for bloody years now and I am sick to death of hearing Draco complain about it. I told him to be a Malfoy about it and have an actual conversation with you but if he cornered you at work—“</p><p class="p1">“Wouldn’t really say he cornered me,” Harry mumbled. “Was just weird, that’s all. Bit out of nowhere really.”</p><p class="p1">“It only seems like it’s ‘out of nowhere’ because you are the most oblivious idiot I have ever had the misfortune of knowing.” She rolled her eyes as she ran a perfectly manicured hand through her hair. “Listen to me, Potter, because I’m not going to say this twice. Everyone knows you’re obsessed with Draco—don’t interrupt me! It’s very obvious—but he’s convinced you can’t possibly be interested in him because you’re too busy accusing him of evil wrongdoings to show interest like any <em>sane person</em> would. He’s obviously been obsessed with you for just as long, if not longer, except he’s gone and done the mature thing and admit that he wants to do more adult things than just taunt you for the rest of your sorry existence.”</p><p class="p1">“I… Adult things? He’s obsessed with me?”</p><p class="p1">Throwing her hands in the air, Pansy shrieked. “Merlin’s beard! If I have to spend another holiday season with Draco moping around about absolutely everything... Except Harry Potter, of course, because there’s <em>no way</em> Draco Malfoy could be pining over Harry Potter, no, not at all!”</p><p class="p1">Harry stared at her, dumbfounded. Had he had too much to drink? Was he hallucinating?</p><p class="p1">“Oh, Salazar. Now he looks like he’s been stunned. Potter, I cannot stand here with you being a blithering idiot any longer. I’m sick of it, you hear me? Absolutely pathetic, the lot of you. You’ve clearly had some kind of breakthrough tonight, that much was obvious. Do something about it so the rest of us can regain our sanity, please. Please. Do you hear that? I am literally begging you, and Parkinsons don’t beg.”</p><p class="p1">“What do you want me to do about it?” Harry asked in a small voice. It was starting to make sense to him the more he sat with it. The more he thought on it, the more he considered Malfoy in those <em>stupid </em>jeans and his <em>stupid</em> hair and the entirely <em>stupid</em> was his eyes lit up when he smiled… Even the fire in his eyes when they argued… Well, bugger.</p><p class="p1">“Tell him. Even if you realise you don’t want anything at all, Potter, just bloody tell him. Make sure you tell him soon and don’t expect him to wait around if you mess it up now, because Merlin knows he’s been waiting a while for you to stop being such a fool.”</p><p class="p1">Harry nodded, heart racing as he considered whether he felt more terror or excitement at the prospect being presented to him. Equal parts of both, if he was being honest with himself.</p><p class="p1">Pansy seemed to take that as confirmation enough that her message had landed, nodding sharply at him before turning to walk back into the pub.</p><p class="p1">“Er, Pansy?”</p><p class="p1">“What, Potter?” She said, turning back with an exasperated sigh. “I can’t really spell it out any—“</p><p class="p1">“Tell me about Secret Santa.”</p><p class="p1">Whatever she’d been expecting him to say, it certainly wasn’t that. After a second her eyebrows came back down from her hairline. “What about it?”</p><p class="p1">“It seems suspicious. Why did Malfoy suggest it?”</p><p class="p1">“Ah.” She pursed her lips, hesitating. “I’m not sure that’s my place to say, Potter. It holds a certain… Sentimental value for Draco. You’ll have to ask him for more than that, I’m afraid.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay.” Harry waited to see if she would say anything further and realising she really wasn’t going to explain more, he shrugged. “I’ll talk to him.”</p><p class="p1">“Thank Merlin for Christmas miracles.”</p><p class="p1">He watched her walk back inside the pub, words echoing in his head. <em>Sentimental value</em>, he thought. Perhaps this was his opening to ask Draco outright and be done with the guessing games for good.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">It had been a long evening at work—Christmas Eve always kept them open late—and Harry was just about ready to collapse when he apparated home. Landing on the top step, he turned left towards the door before doing a double take at what he saw in his peripheral.</p>
<p class="p1">“Malfoy?”</p>
<p class="p1">Straightening up for where he’d been leaning against the stair rail, Malfoy cleared his throat. “Yes? I mean, yes. I came to talk?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh.” Harry’s eyes widened as he felt his breath catch in his throat. “Yeah, sure.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I can come back if this isn’t a good time?”</p>
<p class="p1">“No, no! I just wasn’t expecting to see you here. At my house. On my stairs. You know?”</p>
<p class="p1">Malfoy arched an eyebrow, looking confused. “You included your address in the owl last night.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Last night… Oh,” Harry groaned, a hazy memory of scrawling a letter as he nursed a nightcap at the kitchen table before bed. “Sorry about that. I was a bit—“</p>
<p class="p1">“I know. I saw you leave the pub.” Shifting awkwardly in the hallway, Malfoy grimaced. “If you’d prefer I ignored the invitation, I can leave.”</p>
<p class="p1">Pansy’s words echoed through his mind again as he stood, watching Malfoy stand vulnerably before him. “No. I meant what I said, it’s just been a long day. Christmas Eve and all. Come inside for a drink?”</p>
<p class="p1">Hastily opening the door and ushering Malfoy inside, Harry panicked as he tried to think about the state he’d left all the rooms in. The kitchen should be safe, right?</p>
<p class="p1">Absorbed as he was by his thoughts, Harry misjudged his distance from Malfoy after closing the door and jerked back quickly, knocking over the umbrella stand by the door. He groaned as the curtains beside him flung open and Walburga’s portrait began to shout.</p>
<p class="p1">“—filthy half breeds, turning the Noble House of Black into a common—“</p>
<p class="p1">Drawing his wand he quickly charmed the curtains shock but not before Malfoy’s face had gone into an apparent state of shock.</p>
<p class="p1">"Merlin. That's not..."</p>
<p class="p1">"Your great aunt or something? Yeah, that's Walburga."</p>
<p class="p1">"Oh my." Malfoy shook his head, the sheer disbelief still painted across his face. "She's got quite the pipes on her, doesn't she?"</p>
<p class="p1">Harry snorted. "Guess you could say that. Twisted sense of humour too. Permanent sticking charm on her, or we'd have taken her down long ago."</p>
<p class="p1">“You know you can—never mind,” Malfoy said suddenly, turning away from the curtains. “So, how about that drink then?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Of course! Kitchen’s through this way.”</p>
<p class="p1">Harry led Malfoy down the hallway and through to the kitchen before rummaging through the cupboards for two whiskey tumblers and a bottle of Ogden’s he was yet to open. They then sat at the table, an awkward silence falling over the room broken only by the sounds of Harry preparing their drinks. He was grateful that at the very least he'd had the decency to keep this room tidy in his drunken stupor last night.</p>
<p class="p1">Clearing his throat, Malfoy accepted the proffered glass and clinked it against Harry’s, maintaining steady eye contact as he took the first swallow. Harry felt his cheeks flush as he watched the movement of Malfoy’s throat, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, the glint in his eyes as he reclined in his chair and stretched his legs out before him.</p>
<p class="p1">“So this is the old Black house? Looks a lot brighter than I remember, though it has been a few decades.”</p>
<p class="p1">Grateful for the distraction, Harry nodded quickly. “We spent a lot of time repairing it after the — after school, and all that. Aside from Walburga out there, everything fixed up quite nicely.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Mm,” Malfoy said as he took another sip. Placing the glass down on the table between them, he tilted his head as he looked at Harry, searching his face for something. “So, Potter. Care to explain what was so urgently in need of discussion that you had to owl me about it in the middle of the night?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Er…” Harry took a long drink from his glass before throwing caution to the wind. “Pansy told me to ask you about Secret Santa.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I should have known. I suppose this is something to do with that plan you accused me of the other night?”</p>
<p class="p1">Feeling sheepish, Harry grimaced. “Sorry. I was out of line.”</p>
<p class="p1">“An actual apology from Harry Potter himself? I thought the day would never come.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Shut it, Malfoy.”</p>
<p class="p1">Malfoy laughed, a rich, warm sound that filled Harry’s chest with something he didn’t want to examine too closely. “Fine. Just because you asked so nicely.” Picking up his glass, Malfoy took another sip as he seemed to think on how best to phrase his words. “It started in Azkaban. Something that one of the Muggleborn inmates suggested, actually. Apparently it’s quite common among the Muggles he grew up with and well, when you’re incarcerated through the holidays you cling onto what little you can. There were only a few of us who agreed in the end—five, to be exact—and we kept doing it in the years that followed.”</p>
<p class="p1">Harry sat in silence for a moment, slightly stunned that he’d gotten such an honest and heartfelt answer. “Er… Will you be doing it again this year, then?”</p>
<p class="p1">“I’d say not. I’m the only one of us left alive.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p class="p1">Malfoy waved off his apology, eyes determinedly fixed on the floor. “It’s fine. I mean, you can hardly blame people for wanting to off ex-Death Eaters, right?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Wait, people are—“</p>
<p class="p1">“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same if you knew you’d get away with it. You, who even now is suspicious of my motives?”</p>
<p class="p1">Harry gulped, voice low. “I’m not suspicious of you any more, Malfoy.”</p>
<p class="p1">“What, because I told you my sob story? Great, I’ll make sure to pull it out earlier next time.” Malfoy’s voice was reminiscent of their younger years: defensive and proud. It was only the slight shake to it that gave away how much his heart wasn’t in the fight. “If that’s all you wanted to discuss, Potter, I think I’d best be off.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Malfoy, wait.”</p>
<p class="p1">Harry called after him as he watched Malfoy rise from the table and start off down the hallway towards the front door. Cursing, he jumped up and hurried after him, managing to catch him as he made it through to the front stairs.</p>
<p class="p1">“Malfoy—Draco. Wait.”</p>
<p class="p1">It was the use of his given name that made Draco hesitate, it seemed. He paused, turning to face Harry and looking torn between frustration and… Something Harry couldn’t quite put a name to, but felt reflected in his own stare.</p>
<p class="p1">“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance sooner, I’m sorry I’ve been a bloody idiot.”</p>
<p class="p1">Harry was stepping closer as he spoke, not realising just how close they’d gotten until he came chest to chest with Draco and time felt as if it stood still. How long they stood there with their eyes locked on one another he would never be sure. His eyes flickered down to Draco’s lips and he wondered, wanted, needed to know how he tasted.</p>
<p class="p1">Glancing back up he saw Draco’s gaze on his again, uncertain and trusting. He leaned in, ready to take the plunge…</p>
<p class="p1">“I can’t,” Draco said as he stepped back. “Harry, I…”</p>
<p class="p1">“Please,” Harry whispered, voice breaking as he watched Draco turn on himself and disappear with a loud <em>crack</em>.</p>
<p class="p1">Leaning against the wall beside his still open front door, Harry sank slowly to the ground, breath coming in heavy pants as he gave up on rational thought for another night.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Harry had barely made it through the door when he was pulled aside roughly and all but slammed into the nearest wall.</p>
<p class="p1">“What the—Ginny?”</p>
<p class="p1">She’d gotten stronger with all the Chaser training, it seemed. Harry’s head screamed in protest from where it had made contact with the wall and he frowned, unsure what he had done to deserve this rough treatment.</p>
<p class="p1">“What did you do to Malfoy?” She whispered, waving Molly away from where she was hovering in the hallway as she raised her voice. “You can have him in a minute mum, he’s got some explaining to do right now.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Ginny dear, look at the state of him! He’s skin and bones, Harry needs some food—“</p>
<p class="p1">“Give me one minute! Then you can stuff him to your heart’s delight.”</p>
<p class="p1">Molly’s grumbles could be heard as she walked off, apparently unwilling to let Harry spend too much time in her home without a plate in his hand. Eyes flicking back to Ginny as Molly disappeared from view, Harry raised his eyebrows expectantly.</p>
<p class="p1">“Well? Luna said he was a right mess this morning, Pansy won’t shut up about it and honestly if I didn’t get to you first I think she would have wrung your neck for it. You’ve got thirty seconds. What happened?”</p>
<p class="p1">Harry sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Gin. One minute things were fine, I thought we were about to kiss for Merlin’s—“</p>
<p class="p1">“You kissed?!” She shouted, quickly covering her mouth with her hands as she realised how loud her voice had been. “You kissed?” She repeated at a whisper. “Last night?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Almost,” Harry admitted with another sigh. “And then he, I don’t know, panicked? He just ran off without a word.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Mmm,” Ginny said as she stepped back and folded her arms across her chest. “I suppose you didn’t do anything to provoke that, right?”</p>
<p class="p1">“I don’t think so?”</p>
<p class="p1">“You didn’t insult his father, call him a Death Eater, tell him you think he’s up to something...?”</p>
<p class="p1">Harry gulped. “Not at that exact moment.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Harry!” Storming off towards the kitchen, Ginny shot daggers at him as she looked back over her shoulder. “Fix it or I swear, I will make your life miserable—and it won’t just be me.”</p>
<p class="p1">Calling out for Molly, Ginny disappeared around the doorway and Harry slumped back against the wall, groaning as he let his eyes fall closed. When it came to Malfoy, why did everything have to be so difficult?</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<hr/>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">Entering Luna and Ginny’s cottage that evening Harry could feel his heart racing and his palms growing sweatier by the second, despite the cold winter’s night. Having replayed both his conversation with Ginny and the entirety of last night over in his head a million times by this point he was starting to see that he had, in fact, been perhaps a bit insulting towards Malfoy. It was a hard habit to break, unfortunately, no matter how much he realised that he wanted to snog the git senseless.</p>
<p class="p1">Ginny simply glared at him from across the hallway as Luna gave him a warm embrace, welcoming him inside. He assumed they had decorated the place in advance as there was no way they could have decked out all of this glorious festivity in the ten minutes since he last saw them leaving the Burrow together.</p>
<p class="p1">“It looks lovely, Luna.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Thanks, Harry. Ginny warned me off inviting the nargles in this year so there’s no mistletoe, I’m afraid.”</p>
<p class="p1">“What a shame,” he said with an understanding nod. “Perhaps next year?”</p>
<p class="p1">“We’ll see. There’s at least plenty of golden trinkets for the yeplests to enjoy.”</p>
<p class="p1">Choosing to simply grin and continue through to where everyone was gathered inside, Harry appreciated the bright colours and slightly unorthodox decorations. He told himself that was all he was looking for as he scoured the rooms he passed, rather than admit to himself just how desperately he was seeking a certain blonde.</p>
<p class="p1">The next hour was spent dodging glares from Pansy as she stuck by Draco’s side and together they avoided all of his attempts at conversation. He only managed to occupy the same room as them for half a minute at most, and even that was only because Neville had accidentally spelled the kitchen door closed from the inside for a short while. This meant that Harry barely got a word in with Dean either—he was tailing Pansy like a lost puppy, which would have been sweet under any other circumstances—and all in all Harry was not enjoying how this Christmas night was shaping up.</p>
<p class="p1">When the clock struck nine, Luna gathered everyone into the sitting room to open their designated Secret Santa gifts. Harry had given up trying to make contact with Draco at this stage and was instead decidedly <em>not sulking</em> next to Ron and Hermione in the corner farthest from the kitchen and closest to the Christmas tree. Names were called, presents were delegated and time passed in a blurry haze. It wasn’t until he heard his name that he looked up from the bottom of the eggnog he was nursing that Harry dared chance a glance across the room and met Pansy’s disappointed glare that he realised Draco was no longer there. He caught the slightest glimpse of blonde in his peripheral and turned to see Draco making his way through to the kitchen and saw the perfect opportunity to corner him under the pretence of refilling his drink.</p>
<p class="p1">Unfortunately, that plan was ruined by Luna handing him a present and instructing him to open the Secret Santa gift immediately.</p>
<p class="p1">He sighed, ripping through the paper in the hopes that if he could get it over with quickly, maybe he’d be left alone long enough to slip away. As the wrapping fell away there was a gasp from Hermione to his left and he looked down at the silver blade in his hands, unsure of what was so special about it.</p>
<p class="p1">“That’s a Dragon Claw blade,” Hermione said in awe-filled tones. “They can cut through anything.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I’ve heard of them,” said Ron. “Oi! Do you reckon this means—“</p>
<p class="p1">“Walburga,” breathed Hermione. “Yes, it’ll cut through a sticking charm like it’s nothing!”</p>
<p class="p1">Harry grinned for a moment, realising immediately that he had been wrong about Hermione’s giftee and more importantly, about Draco’s motives all along. He then swore quite loudly, realising that he had absolutely buggered everything up.</p>
<p class="p1">Standing quickly, he squeezed past his friends and made his way into the kitchen, ignoring the whispers that broke out behind him. Rounding the corner he stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Draco frozen across the room at the sight of him.</p>
<p class="p1">“Draco…” He breathed. “You got me this?”</p>
<p class="p1">Shifting from one foot to the other, Draco shrugged. “Yeah, well. Don’t think about it too much. You clearly needed it and I honestly don’t know how any of your other friends hadn’t already thought of it. How anyone can stand to be in your house with Walburga, honestly…”</p>
<p class="p1">He rambled on for a while as Harry stood, grin stretching across his face like a lunatic as he felt a warmth spreading through him. <em>Bloody hell</em>, he thought. <em>I’ve really got it bad.</em></p>
<p class="p1">“Are you even listening to me?”</p>
<p class="p1">Harry laughed, shaking his head. He took a step closer and upon realising that Draco didn’t seem to be trying to run this time, he took a few more until he had Draco backed up against the wall.</p>
<p class="p1">“Harry…”</p>
<p class="p1">“Yes?” He said, voice dropping to a whisper. “Yes, Draco?”</p>
<p class="p1">“I—We should be getting back, our friends—“</p>
<p class="p1">“Can wait.”</p>
<p class="p1">Gulping, Draco hesitated before nodding, placing his drink down on the counter. “Are you sure?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do this?”</p>
<p class="p1">Draco snorted softly. “Do you?”</p>
<p class="p1">Harry leaned forward, their lips so close now they were almost brushing. “No, not really. A lot longer than I had realised, apparently.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Yes, well. Glad you’ve managed to become more introspective this festive season.” Draco was rambling now, his eyes flicking down to Harry’s lips as warm breath caressed his face. “Perhaps you’ll start—“</p>
<p class="p1">Finally closing the distance Harry cut off the end of Draco’s words and pressed their lips together, pushing Draco up against the cabinet. He pulled away after a moment, breathy.</p>
<p class="p1">“I— Sorry, I should have—“</p>
<p class="p1">“Harry?”</p>
<p class="p1">He gulped. “Yes?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Shut up.”</p>
<p class="p1">Draco tugged at his shirt and brought him back so that their lips were pressing against each other once more, mouths warm and inviting. How long they stayed there neither could say, kiss growing more confident as tongues explored mouths, ranging from tender, slow and explorative to rough, heated and needy. It wasn’t until they heard a cheer behind them that the two pulled apart, turning to see their friends standing in the doorway with grins across their faces.</p>
<p class="p1">“About bloody time,” Ron said with a grin.</p>
<p class="p1">“Pay up then,” Seamus said. “Told you it’d happen before the night was over.”</p>
<p class="p1">“You bet on this?” Harry said, incredulous. “Why didn’t you just—“</p>
<p class="p1">Hermione shot him a sympathetic smile as she handed galleons over to Seamus. “Oh, Harry. You wouldn’t have listened to a word we said.” Turning to the rest of them, she sighed. “That’s enough now, leave them to it.”</p>
<p class="p1">Harry waited until their friends had left to turn back to Draco, heart rate speeding up at the sight of him; stunned as Harry was, with flushed cheeks and red, plumped lips from their earlier exchange. Smiling, Harry leaned closer and pressed a quick chaste kiss on the blonde’s lips.</p>
<p class="p1">“Best gift anyone’s ever given me,” he murmured.</p>
<p class="p1">He felt Draco’s smile against his lips in response. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”</p>
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